


Sandbox

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Kiddies AU, Shimada Parents - Freeform, Their backyards are right next to each others, Ziegler Parents, just kids being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: 'The white fence has a loose board in the right corner, unnoticeable except when her tiny hands press against it. She nearly stumbles when it shifts back, but keeping with the momentum has her feet under her and in the neighbor’s yard.'





	Sandbox

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some headcannons I wrote a little while back on what Mercy and Genji were like as children. Enjoy!

The white fence has a loose board in the right corner, unnoticeable except when her tiny hands press against it. She nearly stumbles when it shifts back, but keeping with the momentum has her feet under her and in the neighbor’s yard.

A boy with dark hair and sepia eyes looks up at her entrance, close to her age, perhaps a little younger. A sandbox holds his little body as plastic castle molds and a wooden sword sticks out of the sand beside him. A crumbled sand castle already sits between his feet but he’s focused solely on the little girl now in his presence.

“Hey!” He calls out, standing up and rubbing sand over a green scarf wrapped around his neck. “Do you want to help me?”

A nervous child around others that aren’t strictly her parents, Anglea digs one shoe into the ground. Ducking her head, her blonde hair falls forward, hiding her face.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice travels closer, and suddenly a hand is taking hers. Startled, she looks up to find the boy already leading her to the sandbox. Loose fingers hold hers but she finds her feet gliding forward with the little boy.

“Building castles aren’t hard.” Plopping himself back in the sand, a green plastic shovel halfway in the dirt is freed. Flinging dirt just as much as he fills the castle mold, small fingers press into the sand.

“Here,” he holds it up to her, struggling to shove it underneath her hands as she reluctantly kneels down beside him. Eager, and waiting for her to contribute, the little boy flicks his scarf over his shoulder. Her wide eyes flicker from the plastic mold to him repeatedly, and he pulls a frown.

Taking her hand, he pats it once against the dirt, before settling back to watch her. Cool particles now stick to the lines of her palm, but he waits. Slowly, padding with little indents left from her fingers, the mold is packed tight. He exclaims in excitement before taking it and dumping it upside down. Most of it lands upon the makeshift level of the sandbox, but some dirt slips free before it’s slapped against the ground.

“It always gets stuck.” He blows out of his mouth as she leans closer. Experianced hands pat  the side of the plastic mold. Easing the sides carefully, the mold slips inch by inch before he flings it up all together. It hits the ground, sending a few splatters of dirt against her leg but the castle stands before them.

The boy laughs, easing her to let her own giggle loose as well. He turns to her, giving her the wooden sword and the honor of wrecking their precious creation. She hesitates, but his enthusiasm insists she cut the sand formation right down the middle.

They continue as a working machine. The boy packs the sand into the molds, before promptly handing it to her. Her small hands pack it tighter before they both flip it over and unveil their newest creation. It only stands for seconds before it once again rejoins the rest of the particles underneath the children.

“Angela!” A voice calls, shrill with worry. She jerks her head at the nose, and scrambles to her feet.

“Hey,” he stops her before her shoes leave the sandbox. One hand on hers, tugging her back. “Is your name Angela?”

His dark eyes shine in the now setting sun. Bright and curious before she nods.

“I’m Genji.” He loosens his fingers, but doesn’t let go. Tasting the vowels and consonants on her lips, she murmurs it back to him.

“Can we play together again?”

“Anglea, honey, where are you?” Her mother’s voice is getting more demanding, and Angela nods quickly before slipping out of his fingers and to the hole in the fence. Sand still sticks to the palm of her hands, and her white stockings are stained with the evidence of their play, but when she looks back for one fleeting second, the little boy is waving in the hole in the fence. A bright smile separated by wooden planks before she smiles too.

Her fingers wave in the air before her mother’s hand catches them.

* * *

It takes a few days but once the move is complete and the boxes are put away, they see each other again. Under the hole and into Genji’s back yard, they recreate the castle building factory. He tells about what his big brother is doing at school. He learns a lot, and steady questions follow from the young girl at that. Schooling is fascinating, but she doesn’t get to start until next year. The puckered expression morphing on Genji’s face is enough to state his opinion on the subject.

Her mother and father ask about her new friend. She tells them about the green scarf Genji likes to wear, and how he's really good at playing with swords. 

After a few weeks, Angela calls for Genji to come to her yard. A pink slide with a small top appearing like the tallest point of a castle dons it. In a rush of excitement, the young boy draws his sword and declares he’ll be the knight that protects the princess of the castle. In a yellow dress laced with sunflowers, Angela uses the wooden sword to endow the brave knight as the kingdom’s protector for now and forever.

After a month of settling in, her parents surprise Angela with a dinner with the young boy’s family. Unsure, but encouraged by her father’s kind words, she quietly looks forward to it. They prepare for that night, and she wonders how they can slip away to play.

The Shimada’s are elegant people. Genji’s mother and father are without a stain and clean. There’s a soft light in the father’s eyes when he greets Angela with a handshake. She now understands where Genji gets his wooden sword. His mother is firm, but worry lines her eyelashes when watching her children. Hanzo, Genji’s older brother, is nice and quiet. Polite. He doesn’t seem like a eight year old. He belongs with the adults.

Dinner is spent making faces at each other, and trying to not get caught by their parent’s watchful eyes. Discussions on business and being doctors is boring, but when they finish cake she hits Genji’s shin under the table before slipping away. He quickly follows, already undoing the top buttons on his too stiff shirt as Angela loosens her hair free from it’s careful ponytail.

Her room is small but they pull the cushions off the living couches and drag them in besides her bed. Her blanket makes do as a roof and they are careful squeezing in as to not topple the entire fort on top of their heads. Angela’s cat coloring book is viewed with a small flash light as their small bodies crowd the little space. Taking turns, one holds the light while one fills in a yellow or purple before exchanging duties. They plan their next adventure with the knight and princess, for there are rumors of a dragon seeking to take the castle for its own. Discussions on how and when they’ll meet to defeat the great beast take place between the drawings of the third cat’s whiskers.

It gets darker, and the light shines brighter upon the coloring page. Angela’s hair dips onto the surface as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

“You’re tired.” He says, taking the flashlight from her loosen hands. Shifting dangerously closer to one cousin supporting the fort, he moves the coloring book as well.

"I’m not tired,” she mumbles, folding her arms and resting her head upon them as a makeshift pillow.

“Yeah, you are.” The flashlight fits in one hand while a blue crayon fits in another. Dark eyes reflect the light of the yellow bulb, still intent on finishing the drawing.

A soft quiet echoes with scribbles and the occasional shift of a small foot or arm as they stay hidden in their own little world. The blanket walls glow with reflected light, making Angela even more warm. It even makes her eyelids drop lower as she peers at Genji holding the coloring book in his lap.

“Angela,” Genji’s voice slips to her, making her crack her eyes open. His head is closer, and his dark hair is touching a cushion.

“Hmmm?”

She barely feels it, a feather light against the corner of her mouth, and the rest on her cheek. A wet pair of lips leaving a stain that she sloppily wipes away.

“What was that for?” She murmurs, turning slightly on the ground to peer through half closed eyes.

“My mom said that people kiss because they really like each other.” A new crayon rests in his hand, a pastel purple for the cat’s fur.

“Oh.” Angela has seen her parents kiss plenty of times. They kiss her too. On the head, on the cheek and her hands sometimes. Her dad will blow raspberries against her neck when he catches her after a chase. Mom kisses her hair when she’s not feeling good or it’s late at night.

The young girl begins dozing, and soon the light is slipping in the boy’s hands. Knuckles rub against his eyelids in an attempt to awaken himself but in the end he puts the flashlight on its end. Pointing up, it covers the fort in a steady sky line of light as he curls up beside a mess of blonde hair. He pats the locks back, before his hand finds her. A small squeeze is received, and he settles down.

They find dreams on the floor, in a hidden blanket fort.

* * *

Angela awakes in her own bed. Not in a blanket fort, and not with Genji. She frowns, unhappy at the magical disappearance of last night.

Breakfast has to be eaten before going outside to play, but when she gets to the loose board in the fence, Genji is already waiting in the sandbox for her.


End file.
